


Between Twilight

by flowersheep



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Canon Era, Episode: s02e13 The Last Dragonlord, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Missing Scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-28
Updated: 2019-09-28
Packaged: 2020-10-12 22:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571689
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flowersheep/pseuds/flowersheep
Summary: Merlin deals with the death of his father the way he deals with most things that happen in Camelot- by burying it as deep down as possible and soldiering on. At least until Arthur and Gaius conspire to force him to take a trip back home and deal with it.





	Between Twilight

**Author's Note:**

> I had like four ideas for what I could do for this fic and of course I ended up doing the sad one.
> 
> thank you so much to the mods at Merlin canon for hosting this wondering fest!

“What?” Merlin stared at Arthur in disbelief, frozen in the act of picking up a recently discarded tunic from the floor. “You can’t be serious. There’s too much to do!”

“Merlin,” Arthur began, voice already thin with lack of patience, tapping his foot like a parent about to scold their errant child, “I’m quite certain I can say in all seriousness that my chambers have never been cleaner in my entire life.”

“Then I should-”

“My armor doesn’t need anymore polishing, my sword is already sharp enough to cut through solid stone, believe me, Merlin, I’ve tried coming up with more things for you to do, but at this point I’m at my wits end.”

“But, but…” Merlin struggled for words. “You must have something you need me to do,” he finally asked, some of his desperation coming through in his words.

“Truly, I don’t,” Arthur insisted. Merlin didn’t believe him. Arthur was great at coming up with arbitrary, menial tasks. It was a special talent of his, one members of the nobility, particularly royal ones, seemed to all be blessed with. However, it was also clear by the look on Arthur’s face that Merlin could spend the rest of the day arguing about this and the prince wouldn’t budge.

“I’ll go help Gaius, then,” Merlin said. Arthur sighed, exasperated.

“No, what you’re going to do is take a few days off.”

“But I can’t!”

“And why is that?” Arthur crossed his arms, eyebrows raised expectantly. Merlin searched desperately for a reason.

“Who will help you dress? Help you bathe? Bring your meals?” Merlin tried.

“For god’s sake, Merlin, I never thought it would be this hard to get you to take a vacation!” Arthur snapped. “You’re usually begging me for time off! What on earth is going on with you lately?” Merlin looked away, absently twisting Arthur’s tunic in his hands. How was he supposed to explain to Arthur why it was he was so desperate to keep himself occupied? He could barely admit it to himself, much less figure out how to voice it to someone else. All he knew was that if he had too much time to stop and think the grief started to become unbearable. Arthur’s expression softened.

“Gaius tells me you aren’t eating well,” he said, voice softer, gentler now. “You don’t sleep well either.” Merlin crossed his arms, refusing to look at Arthur. Unbidden, tears started to well up, but he ruthlessly shoved them down.

“Thought you’d be happy with my new work ethic,” Merlin finally muttered.

“Volunteering to clean Gaius’s leech tank isn’t a sign of a new work ethic, Merlin. It’s a sign of avoidance.” Arthur crossed the space between them. He lifted a hand and for a moment Merlin thought he was going to cradle his cheek, but then Arthur settled it on his shoulder. Merlin was acutely aware of the contact. “You’ve been working yourself to the bone ever since we dealt with the dragon.”

Merlin squeezed his eyes shut involuntarily against the memories. His nights were already filled with far too many visions of the victims that had come through Gaius’s clinic for days after he’d sent Kilgharrah away. None of those people would have had to suffer if Merlin had known better than to make a deal with a dragon. Maybe he would’ve known better if he’d had someone there who could-

“Merlin?”

Arthur’s voice drew him back to the present. He opened his eyes to find Arthur frowning at him with concern. Merlin took a deep breath, forcing the memories away. It was hard. He had always imagined what it would have been like growing up with his father there. Now that he’d actually met him, spent time with him, gotten to know him a little, it was even worse. Now he had a face and voice to put to those imaginings.

“I’m fine,” Merlin said, refusing to admit that his voice cracked a little on the second word. He forced a smile. “Didn’t realize you cared so much.” Arthur didn’t rise to the bait.

“There was nothing you could have done to prevent anything that happened,” Arthur said. Merlin almost laughed. If only that were true.

“You’re absolutely sure you don’t have anything else for me to do?” Merlin asked one more time, just in case. Arthur sighed.

“No, Merlin, I don’t. Besides, working yourself to death isn’t the answer.”

Merlin snorted. “Pot, meet kettle.”

A smile flashed across Arthur’s face. “Yes, I’m aware I have the same tendency,” he acknowledged. His expression became serious again. “You’re taking a few days off, Merlin. Go pick flowers in the woods or talk to bunnies or whatever it is you do when you’re avoiding your job. Perhaps go visit your mother.”

“And leave you to fend for yourself?” Merlin half heartedly joked, knowing he wasn’t getting his way this time.

“Obviously, someone will fill in for you while you’re gone. But you are taking a vacation, Merlin, end of story. Your job will still be here when you get back.” Arthur squeezed his shoulder before letting his hand slide off. Merlin glared at the ground as Arthur walked past him and out the door. He threw the shirt he was holding into the laundry basket with more force than necessary.

-

“I don’t need a vacation,” Merlin grumbled that night, glaring sullenly into his bowl of soup. When there was nothing but silence from the other side of the table he looked up to see Gaius frowning at him. “What?”

“Taking a bit of time off would not be a bad thing, Merlin,” Gaius said. “Eventually you need to deal with your father’s death. And speak to your mother.” Merlin flinched. Of course Gaius wouldn’t beat around the bush. For a long moment he was quiet.

“What do I even say to her?” he eventually asked, almost pleading. Merlin loved his mother dearly, but she had lied to him his whole life. He couldn’t just move past that. Or the fact that she had asked Gaius to lie to him as well. And, as if that weren’t bad enough, he was also going to have to tell her about Balinor’s death. Gaius sighed. He reached over and patted Merlin’s hand.

“I don’t know, my boy. But ignoring it isn’t going to fix anything.”

Merlin looked away. After a moment he said, “I think I’ll go to bed early,” pushed his soup away, and went to his room. It was long into the night before he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

-

Merlin didn't go home right away. He went to the forest clearing where he'd sat up late around the fire, Arthur already asleep, and asked questions he'd never thought he'd be able to voice. The clearing where he'd said the words, "Sleep well, Father," for the first time in his life after hearing the words, "Goodnight, son," for the first time from a voice other than his mother's. The clearing where he'd woken the next morning to see a wood carved dragon figure sitting beside him, just like the ones he used to play with as a child and would always bring tears to his mother's eyes when he asked where they came from. The clearing where he'd held his father as he died. He carefully scanned the area as he dismounted, unsurprised to find the clearing empty. It had been nearly a month. Merlin started to make his way to where their campsite had been, hoping to find something there that he could take with him, something to stand in for the body that had already been returned to the earth. Then a familiar voice echoed in his mind, stopping him dead in his tracks.

'Emrys.'

He turned and saw Iseldir on the edge of the clearing.

'The dragonlord lies with us,' Iseldir said, beckoning him into the forest. Merlin followed without hesitation. The druids' current encampment wasn't far. As they weaved through the colorful tents the druids fell quiet, watching him pass. Merlin ignored them, keeping his eyes forward.

Iseldir led him to a tent on the far side of the camp. Merlin stepped inside and sucked in a sharp breath. It was like a day hadn't passed.

"We have been waiting for your return, Emrys," Iseldir said quietly. "Something told me it would not be right to lay him to rest without you."

Merlin knelt by the body. He could sense the traces of magic used to preserve it. Like this, resting peacefully on a bed of old cloth, it looked almost like he would open his eyes any moment and sit up and continue telling Merlin the history of a people he had only recently learned he belonged to. The tears came suddenly, spilling down his cheeks, and his voice quivered as he told Iseldir, "He was my father."

"I see," Iseldir said. There was sadness and sympathy in his voice. "Balinor was a good man."

"Did you know him?" Merlin asked, turning quickly. He'd been too busy throwing himself into work to ask Gaius about his father, but now he realized he was hungry for any information he could get.

"Not well, but yes, I did know him. He was always kind to the druids. And he was one of the most skilled healers I ever had the honor of knowing." Merlin felt something heavy in his stomach as he thought of his inadequate healing spells that failed more often than not.

"Clearly I didn't inherit that talent from him," he muttered. It stung.

"It takes years to master healing," Iseldir said. "Even for one such as you, Emrys, who can command the elements with no more than a thought. It takes knowledge not just of magic, but of more mundane methods as well. You father studied both magic and science for years to achieve his skill in healing magic." Merlin looked away, recalling all the times Gaius had tried to get him to sit still for even five minutes for a basic anatomy lesson. Perhaps if he'd taken the time to allow Gaius to teach him he would have been able to save his father.

The quiet stretched for several long minutes. Hesitantly, Merlin reached out and laid his hand over his father's.

"How do you lay a dragonlord to rest?" Merlin asked.

"By fire."

-

The pyre was constructed just outside the camp. Merlin stood, numb, and watched the druids carefully build it. A group of women and children passed by him, baskets of wildflowers in their arms. They glanced at him as they passed, but left him alone. Merlin couldn’t decide whether or not he was grateful for the solitude. He wasn’t particularly in the mood to socialize with people he barely knew, but it left him alone with his thoughts, allowing the grief he’d been suppressing to creep in. 

Night was descending by the time the pyre was built. Merlin followed behind a solemn procession of druids bearing his father's body. Every occupant of the camp was gathered around the pyre, torches creating a patchwork of light. They laid Balinor gently on the platform and surrounded him with the wildflowers picked earlier that day. When the druids stepped back, Merlin approached the body. He felt like he should say something, but the words all clogged in his throat. His vision began to blur. What could he say about a man he’d barely had the chance to know? A hand fell on his shoulder and Merlin looked into Iseldir’s steady gaze, reading the silent offer. He nodded.

"Tonight we lay to rest a great man,” Iseldir said into the quiet. “A healer, a warrior, a father, a friend. One of the last dragonlords to walk this earth.” Merlin’s breath hitched at the reminder of his heritage and how much of it had been lost to the Great Purge. “You will be dearly missed, Balinor, especially by you loved ones and friends. Dragonlords are born of fire and so it is only fitting that upon death they be returned to that fire.” Iseldir stepped up beside Merlin again, holding out a torch. Hesitantly, Merlin took it. He started to lower it towards the pyre, but paused halfway there. Fresh tears rolled down his cheeks. He took a deep, bracing breath and forced himself to touch the torch to the wood, setting it alight. Other druids stepped forward then and added their own fire to the pyre.

Merlin watched as the flames grew in intensity until they were licking at the night sky, smoke coiling thick up towards the stars. Tears continued to flow down his cheeks, but inside Merlin just felt numb. He held vigil long into the night, until well past when the druids had all turned in, until the sun was starting to rise again. His eyes itched with tiredness, but he refused to leave until there was nothing but smoldering ash left. Only then did he curl up in a corner of the druid camp and lie awake until exhaustion overcame him.

-

Hunith welcomed him with warmth, despite her surprise at his visit. She fussed and Merlin took it with patience born of the fact that he had no idea how to bring up the subject of his father. It was hard to dig up the usual cheer he felt when visiting his mother. All he could think as he set his things down and listened to his mother chatter on about the latest happenings in the village was that she had lied to him. His entire life she had lied to him about his father. She had even told Gaius to lie to him. And he knew, deep down he knew, that she had done it to protect him, but that didn't stop it from hurting. She picked up on his strange mood quickly, frowning at him with concern. Merlin refused to meet her eyes and hated the hurt he saw in his mother's expression when he turned away.

It remained that way until evening. As they finished dinner, Hunith gave him a considering look and asked, "What is it, Merlin? What's wrong?"

Merlin sighed through his nose and said, "I know."

"You know?"

"About my father."

Hunith went still. "Merlin-"

"Gaius told me."

There was silence for a long moment. When Merlin dared to look, his mother's expression was heartbroken.

"I see," she said, voice cracking. She cleared her throat, but couldn't seem to figure out what to say next. Some of Merlin's anger boiled to the surface.

"I had a right to know," he said vehemently.

"I'm sorry," Hunith said. She wiped at her eyes. "I was just afraid. Afraid that it would put you in more danger!"

"So you lied to me? You had Gaius lie to me?"

"I was just trying to protect you," Hunith said. "I'm so sorry, Merlin." Tears slipped down her cheeks and Merlin's anger left him in an instant. He got up and went to his mother, hugging her. She held him fiercely. For a while they sat like that.

"It was also partly for selfish reasons," Hunith admitted when she pulled back, wiping at her eyes. "At first, after Balinor left, I held out hope that he would return. Even when months, then years passed there was still a small part of me that clung to the hope that one day I would open the door and he would be there. When you were about five I realized that would never happen. Whatever the reason that stupid man came up with he was never coming back." Her breath hitched and Merlin grabbed his mother's hand. She gave his a squeeze. "Knowing Balinor, he probably thought I was better off without him, that his presence would put me in danger."

"Why didn't you go with him?" Merlin asked.

Hunith sighed, wistful. "I wish now that I had. It would have been difficult, especially with you, but at least we would have been together."

"So why didn't you?"

"It all just happened so fast. I woke in the middle of the night. Balinor had already packed a bag and was halfway through putting his boots on. When I looked outside the far side of the village was aflame. There was no time to think, no time to plan. One minute we were saying goodbye and the next he was gone." It was clear from the way she spoke that no matter how long it had been thinking of that night still pained her.

"What about- what about me?" Merlin asked, suspecting he already knew the answer. "Did I make any difference?"

Hunith squeezed his hand again. "Balinor didn't know, Merlin," she said. "It wasn't until a week after he'd gone that I realized I was pregnant. I never had the chance to tell him he's a father."

Merlin remembered the look on his father's face when it had sunk in that Merlin really was his son. There hadn't been time to think about it, but a part of him had known at that time that Balinor had no idea he'd left Hunith with a child. He wondered if it would have made a difference.

"Merlin," Hunith ventured after a while, "why did Gaius bring it up?"

"There was a dragon loose in Camelot," Merlin said, deciding to gloss over the details of why. He wasn't ready to think too hard about all of that.

"Kilgharrah?" Hunith asked. "I believe that's what Balinor called him…"

Merlin swallowed. "Yeah. After three nights of being terrorized Gaius finally said that if we wanted to stop the dragon we needed a dragonlord. I asked later how he knew where to find one and Gaius told me about how he'd helped him escape. How you took him in and helped him."

"I see." His mother's voice was soft, thoughtful. "Where…" She took a deep breath. "Where is he now?"

Merlin opened his mouth, but the words stuck in his throat. He'd though he'd cried his fill already, but the tears came immediately. His mother gasped and then the tears were reflected in her eyes as well. 

"Oh." That one single word was filled with all her secret hope, her heartbreak, her love, her sorrow. She took a deep shuddering breath and pressed her hand to her mouth for a moment. "How-How-" Merlin knew what she was asking. He took a moment to choke back his own grief.

"On our way back to Camelot we were attacked by one of Cenred's patrols. I was- I wasn't paying enough attention. Father-" He had to pause for a moment as the use of that single word nearly overwhelmed him. "Father dove in front of me."

A burst of hysterical laughter left Hunith. "I always knew that, given the chance, he'd be a good father," she said. They fell silent after that. Then Merlin remembered the jar in his bag. He went and retrieved it.

"The druids had a funeral for him," Merlin explained, carefully handing the jar to his mother. Fresh tears spilled down her cheeks as she gently took it in her hands. "Are you… are you gonna keep it or…"

Hunith shook her head. "I don't know. I… I don't know." Merlin nodded. That was fair. She had just learned that the man she loved, the man she'd secretly been waiting to come home to her, was dead. "What about Kilgharrah? What became of the dragon?"

"I sent him away." Merlin managed a small laugh. "Would've been helpful to know about all this dragonlord stuff sooner. Although Gaius said it only passes from parent to child on death. Is that true?"

Hunith set the jar aside gently and rubbed a hand over her face, thinking. "I don't know, Merlin. I'm sure I must have asked at some point." She looked at him, the pain in her eyes clear as day. “I think we should both get some rest and continue this conversation in the morning.” Merlin said nothing, but he didn’t protest. He knew his mother needed time to process all of this. So he quietly laid out his bedroll by the fire and curled up to go to sleep. He thought he would lie awake for hours thinking about everything he’d been trying to avoid for the past month, but the exhaustion from his trip caught up with him quickly and soon he was drifting off to a mostly peaceful sleep, the first one he’d had in a month.


End file.
